


Two Minds, One Heart

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - General [45]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the peaceful, natural death of their dad John Watson, the Watson-Holmes children gather around the grave site.<br/>Harriet and Hudson contemplate life without their parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Minds, One Heart

Disregarding gender, they were alike in nearly every way. They were the eldest, though she elder by a few minutes more. They were equally bright and brilliant. They had their father’s eyes and their dad’s hair. Both sorted Ravenclaw at 11, and both became Aurors soon after school. Both were rising high in the ranks due to their exceptional skills in DADA as well as their seemingly insane stratagems. Both fluent in Latin, Greek, Italian, French, various dialects of India, and both Cantonese and Mandarin. Eager to experiment. Eager to learn. Always collecting data. Always observing the world around them. Their minds… Oh, their minds never shut down for even an instant. But in the matters of the heart…

This is where their differences became apparent.

For all the knowledge and data and linguistic prowess, one was cold and the other warm. She married, he did not. She made a family, he did not.

And as they stood for the second time beneath the black umbrellas in the Sussex heat, letting the rain beat down as they stood across the site from their younger brothers – a little dark haired girl between them, the biggest difference between them was laid to bare.

Their dad had been placed beside their father hours ago. Others had lingered, but they too had gone. Her own husband and children had left shortly after the muddy earth began to fall upon the polished wood that now lay buried six feet below.

A single headstone, double the width to span two graves (at the first deceased’s request), now bore a new name freshly chiseled into its polished black marble.

“Well,” he said beside her. “That’s that then.” His voice was… normal. Meaning it was not only cold, but utterly lacked emotion. She closed her eyes and listened as he carried on a conversation with her middle brother with the graves of their parents between them. “I suppose the house needs to be cleared up. Dad’s clothes and books packed away to be sorted for charity later.”

“Maybe now you can move out here full time, Ange. Since you’ve been haunting the place once a month anyway,” said the middle brother.

The youngest growled angrily, turning away from them and shoving his hands into his pockets. His silver glare never leaving the headstone. Determined to ignore his siblings rather than argue. She watched him, the twitch of his mouth betraying his desire to turn and shout at them in anger. But he understood this was not the time nor the place for such things. The four of them had become orphans, only just.

The little girl, Charlotte, stood quietly and reached for her uncle’s hand. The girl was so much like her father, and their father as well. But sometimes, like now, a bit of Watson shone through. She watched from beneath her umbrella as the youngest brother took her offered hand. After a few minutes, his brothers still talking across the dead, he sighed. “I’m going back to dad’s,” he said. “Get Lottie out of the rain before she catches cold.”

“You cannot catch a cold from-“

“Oh would you just shut it!” Harriet snapped at last, unable to take the easy chatter any longer. “Hamish, go with Ange and your daughter. You’re a heartless bastard anyway.”

“I am not a-“

“GO!”

Within moments the three of them were gone with a pop, Angelo, she noticed, taking the girl side-along with him. Once they were gone, she whirled on her twin. Angry ashen eyes glaring into him so hard she swore he actually considered flinching. “You.”

“What? You know I don’t go in for this caring lark. It’s just not in me.”

“Our dad just died. And in case it escaped your notice, Little Brother,” she said, sneering with the last two words. “We’ve just become orphans! And you talk of having all of dad’s stuff packed away like… like… Like he didn’t even bloody matter!”

“He’s dead. He won’t be needing it now, and it’s taking up space that could otherwise be put to practical use. If Angelo doesn’t move in, which let’s face it is ideal considering Seamus and Charlotte have a dog allergy and the runt turns into a giant wolf once a month, sometimes twice if there’s a blue moon-“

“Look. I’m not saying things don’t need to be done. I’m just saying…” She sighed and rubbed her forehead, that spot right between the eyes. Just like their dad used to when he’d get frustrated with their father. “It’s only been a week. We just put him in the ground not three feet from you. You know how emotional Angelo is. It’s too soon to be discussing things like this in front of him, or at all.”

“I don’t see why-“

“Social bloody conventions that’s why!” she shouted, well aware that her tone was rather inappropriate for the place they were in. “Give it a month. Let those of us who actually grieve do so before you go swanning in with your callous efficiency and your machine-like mind.”

Her eyes welled up with tears she had yet to shed, and she turned her face away. She couldn’t bear to look at her twin, not when she could feel the emotions he would never understand threatening to break through to the surface. It was in these moments, knowing she would always be bound to him by their shared blood and the twin bond of their magic, that she felt so alone.

He put a gloved hand to his mouth and used his teeth to pull it off before touching a cold hand to her cheek. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, and watched as the tears began to fall. No, he would never understand. But that is why he was grateful, even just a little, to have his sister with him.

She looked to him again, reaching up her free hand to cup over his upon her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing he would do nothing for a few weeks at the least. “Thank you,” she said.

He nodded, but did not let his hand drop. Not yet. “Between the two of us,” he said thoughtfully. “Without question, we each gained the sharp detective’s mind. But you, sister mine,” he said, then paused briefly, turning his head away to lay those identical ashen eyes upon the freshly carved name of John Watson. “You alone received the soldier’s heart.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Photo manip by T.D. Fitz, and originally hosted on the now defunct sherlockmalfoy tumblr.


End file.
